


Something Wonderful

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-27
Updated: 2005-09-27
Packaged: 2018-12-26 20:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: The future. An art show. Two men.





	Something Wonderful

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

The crowd is still thick, and I try my best not to listen to all the assholes gushing bullshit about my work, when I see him.

Lately, things have gotten difficult. I’m tired of all the critics who use big words for what is a simple pleasure for me, and the men and woman who know nothing about art but still talk as if they do. It’s true, it’s earned me big money in only a few years, but it’s lost its thrill. My heart doesn’t beat faster just because we’re preparing another exhibit, and my hands stopped sweating a long time ago. This is routine and I am starting to hate it. 

He isn’t. There is no routine in the way he stands, eyes beneath half-lowered lids taking in every little thing. He isn’t part of the crowd, never was, and just like that first time beneath the lamp I’m mesmerized by the sight of him.

He has changed. And it isn’t just the years. He is 45, his hair is sprinkled with grey, he doesn’t try to hide it which surprises me. Or maybe not. He looks even more devastatingly handsome. A lot has changed, and I feel a pang of regret that I wasn’t around to see it, to watch it happen. 

I often ask myself if it was worth it. 

Ignoring the woman to my right, I sign for a waiter and taking two glasses of champagne from the tray, I walk over to him, my heart beating fast, my palms damp. I see his eyes flicker, the only sign of recognition.

“You doing waiting duty these days?” he greets me, pushing away from the wall, standing straight now, his Armani suit a perfect fit for his tall, still lean form

“Just for special guests.” I hand him a glass and he takes it, careful not to touch me. Or maybe it’s just my imagination. His fingers are still perfect, long and strong, the nails showing the recent manicure. 

He takes a sip, grimaces slightly, and scans the crowd. I know what he’s looking for. Or rather who. 

“He isn’t here. We split two months ago.”

Another flicker in his eyes, a slight clenching of his jaw. But he doesn’t ask, and I’m grateful. It’s still raw, still painful. 

“I’m surprised you came.” He never did before. Not after that first show which was a big hit. 

I still remember standing in the middle of that gallery, gnawing my lower lip, wondering if leaving behind what had been my dream for so long had been the biggest fucking mistake after all. I never doubted that not marrying Brian had been the right thing to do. But going to New York, leaving my old life behind was the biggest step I had taken ever since going to Liberty Avenue. And just like then, I was fucking scared to death.

Brian draws his lips inward while his eyes flicker over the crowd once again. “What happened?” He isn’t looking at me, and I’m grateful. I don’t want to see compassion in his eyes, or worse, pity. 

My throat feels raw. Is it because it still hurts, or because once again I’m the victim of my own stupidity, of my own illusions? “I threw him out.” My voice sounds a lot stronger than I feel. 

I wait for him to comment but he doesn’t. I take a cautious glance and find him still scanning the people surrounding us. “A lot of money mingling here,” he says after a moment. 

“Yeah.” 

Finally his eyes settle on me again. “Busy night?” he asks, and for a split second I wonder if it’s a reference to a night long ago but I doubt he remembers. He was completely tweaked out, I was just too excited to notice or to care. 

“Almost sold out,” I reply. 

“So Lindsay was right. You are the next Warhol.”

I shrug. I hate being compared to Warhol. I used to like it. Not anymore. It cost way too much. Yes, I’m a well-known, well-paid artist. Yes, I’m admired and critics fall over each other to fawn over my work, and, yes, I’ve earned enough I could stop working now and live comfortable ever after. But is it really what I wanted? 

“How is Gus?” I ask instead. 

“Almost all grown up,” he replies and smiles. It’s a gentle expression, full of paternal pride. Then he sighs and empties his champagne. 

I have to grin, thinking of the letter Linds sent me a few weeks ago. “Must have been a bummer.”

Brian grimaces and our eyes meet. He laughs. “Not really. I just want him to be happy. But, Christ, couldn’t he at least be bi-sexual?”

“I’m sure he decided to be straight just to torture you.” I can just see it. Brian completely horrified at the idea of Gus asking him about girls. 

“I told him to talk to his mother about it. After all, she has varied experiences.”

I cough to cover a laugh. “You did not.”

“Sure I did.” And I believe it. It’s just like Brian to say such a thing. “Of course, he was quick to tell me that he was watching Jenny eyeing another girl a few weeks back.” 

This time the champagne does go down the wrong way, and I have to cough a few times to recover my voice. “Oh my,” I croak. Seems the gay gene is running strong in the Novotny-family. “Does Michael know?”

A shadow comes and goes before Brian empties his glass. “No.” Short, clipped. No explanation. Not good. I want to ask but don’t. Brian takes a deep breath. “What happened to the love of your life?”

“You were the love of my life,” I reply quietly. “But I did like Harry a lot.”

I feel Brain chuckle beside me. “How romantic,” he says, but there is no sarcasm in his voice. “So you loved Harry. Like you loved Ian, and Greg, and Preston, and how was his name, the English guy?”

“Steven.”

“Oh, yes, the lovely Steven. English through and through, our little Lord Fauntleroy.” 

“There was Damian,” I remind him, but he doesn’t react. It feels strange hearing him name them all. “And yes, I had deep feelings for all of them.”

He says nothing for a long time. Then, quietly, “I know that, Justin. What happened with Harry?”

I quickly check his expression, but it’s blank, No sarcasm. No acid, like when I was with Steven. Not that Brian and I met while I was with Steven, but we talked, on the phone. And without ever meeting him, Brian hated Steven with a vengeance. Which surprised me. A lot. 

“I found out Harry was fucking the pool boy.”

I hear Brian snort, and know he is suppressing a grin. “The pool boy. How upper class. And that for a guy who was starving on purpose before you met him.” He pauses and I suddenly feel myself locking eyes with him. “What is it with you and starving artists, or wannabes for that matter?”

I look away and clear my throat. “Which didn’t bother me as much as it should. So I told him he could live on someone else’s pocket for a change.”

“How rude.” Brian clucks his tongue, but I hear the smile in his voice. “Have your eyes on someone new?”

The question sounds casual, as if thrown into conversation, but for some reason I hear the tension, and wonder what’s going on. “Noo,” I reply slowly. When I feel his eyes on me, I turn my head and we are looking at each other again. His gaze is intense, very dark as his pupils are dilated to the max. We are standing in a darker corner of the room, but it’s not just the lack of light, I’m sure. 

I lick my lips, my mouth dry all of a sudden. “Why?” is all I manage. 

His eyes stay on me for another heartbeat, then he breaks the contact and shrugs. “No special reason. Just curious, I guess.”

Air leaves my lungs in a rush, and only now I realize I’ve been holding my breath. Stomping down on the disappointment, and ignoring the pang around my heart, I force a smile on my face. “But the guy over there is cute.”

He is cute. Dark. Tall. Lean. Very young. Maybe twenty. Smoldering eyes. And I feel as if I’m nineteen again, standing on the balcony at Babylon checking out potential fucks. It feels strange, but comfortingly familiar, too. “He’s your type.” 

Brian shrugs again. “Not really.” That’s such a lie. He is SO Brian’s type. Just what he always went for. Okay, that was fifteen years ago, and we only kept loose contact, but still. Can a guy change that much? But then – he stayed with me, even asked me to marry him, and I’m definitely neither dark, tall or lean. Not fat, but certainly not lean. I keep in shape, but I have no illusions. One day I’ll have a pouch, no doubt. I still love food way too much to stay trim forever. 

“Not anymore,” Brian says, placing his empty glass on a tray near by. “I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m past casual fucks on a bed far too big for a guy to sleep there on his own.”

My head snaps around so quickly, I hear my vertebrae snap, my mind trying to keep up with what doesn’t seem possible. 

Brian tried his hand at monogamy before. He told me he loved me, that he wanted to marry me, that he would only love me until the end of time. For a moment I felt happy, even let myself believe that this dream could come true, until I realized that I was looking at a man who grew up at the age of 34, and in a desperate attempt to right all the wrongs, tried to turn his life upside down. 

But I knew, I just knew he wasn’t ready. Because I’m only human, too, I agreed, but I knew it was wrong. And even though it hurt, and leaving Pittsburgh for New York was the hardest thing I ever did, it was also the smartest thing to do. Brian needed to grow up in his own pace, and I needed to grow up for entirely different reasons. 

“What?” I finally manage to make my tongue work. 

Brian shrugs and it has nothing casual anymore. His body is like a tense bow, the rigidity in his neck almost painful to watch. A muscle is twitching in his jaw. And I suddenly understand.

Oh. My. God. 

My palms start to dampen.

My knees are weak as jelly.

My mouth is dry as the desert.

“Say something Justin,” he snarls quietly after a moment. “And don’t you dare playing dumb.”

I’m not. Not anymore, that is. “Actually, I’m speechless. I didn’t expect it.”

“Obviously.” He is back to his old sarcasm and it comforts me. But I can also hear the affection which is like warm honey running all over my body. His tongue gives an impatient cluck. “Well?”

“Uh.” Geez. “How much time do I have to think about it?” It sounds stupid, and with stunning amazement I realize, that I really DON’T need to think about it. Not at all. It’s like everything is finally falling into place, as if everything in our lives led us here, to this night, this evening. 

“I’m transferring the agency,” Brian tells me. “If it’s about going to back to the Pitts. I’m not going to force you back to the hellhole.”

I stare at him, still feeling as if I’m standing in a bubble. “I don’t care. I don’t care where we will live.”

The moment the “we” leaves my mouth, I see his posture relax, see a smile starting at the corners of the most beautiful mouth I have ever seen. And speaking about that, I just have to know. “Why?”

He frowns. “Why – what?”

“Why me? Don’t tell me you haven’t met any eligible guys these past years.” I’m sure they must be falling all over their feet to become the guy Brian Kinney settles with.

The frown deepens, and I’m startled to realize that Brian is angry. “Coy doesn’t suit you, Justin.”

“I’m not-“ I try to protest, but he cuts me off with an impatient wave. 

“You told me I am the love of your life, just a few minutes ago.”

“So?” Maybe I’m dumb, but I don’t get it.

He sighs, deeply, and then he says slowly, as if talking to a small child, “It’s always been you, Justin. Then. Now. It doesn’t matter. You are my one chance. You always were.”

“But-“

“I don’t doubt you were right. We were not ready to settle, not ready to get married. And don’t even try to tell me that going to New York wasn’t what you wanted and needed.” 

I can’t. He IS right. I wanted to go to New York. I’m human. I’m an artist. Of course, I wanted admiration, I wanted people to see my work, to like it, to approve of it. I needed to be someone else than just Brian’s little wifey. Here I thought I was always the grown up, while in reality, Brian was far more grown up than any of us. He was just better at hiding it most of the time.

“I’m the love of your life, too.” It’s not a question anymore, but I’m still dumbfounded. I always knew he had deep feelings for me, knew that he once loved me, but the love-of-your-life concept never entered my mind. I swear. 

“100 points for the cute, blond guy.”

I have to grin, and see dark, tall, gorgeous wink at me. I couldn’t care less. 

“I’m not going to promise eternal monogamy. I would love to, but I’m sure I’ll slip now and then.” He is very serious now. 

“I can live with that,” I reply, my throat constricted, but I manage to force the words out. “I don’t want you to be someone you’re not.”

“I’m all for monogamy, don’t get me wrong. But I’m pretty familiar with Brian Kinney. He’s not perfect, even if he’d like nothing better.”

A chuckle bubbles up deep in my lungs. The absurdity of the situation hits me. Here we are standing in one of the most famous galleries in New York, not kissing, not even touching, and discussing the terms of engagement, so to speak. 

“Maybe we should discuss a dowry now.” I can’t help it. I feel like laughing hysterically. It’s just so unreal. And yet, deep inside, I know that this is how it should be. 

His lips twitch. “I doubt your father would provide you with one.” 

“Hardly. Besides, I haven’t talked to him for more than ten years.” Never since he told me I was responsible for his failed marriage. Which is total bullshit, but if it suits him, he can go fuck himself. Mom still wonders if drug abuse during his college years finally caught up with him. I’m tempted to agree. Of course, she is now dating a guy less than half her age, so maybe she has first hand experience. 

“By the way, your mother sends her love.”

I feel my brows go up. “You saw her?” I know they came to like each other after all, but I had no idea they were that close.

Brian’s eyes sparkle, making him even more devastatingly handsome than usual. “I asked for your hand in marriage.”

“You – what?” 

“Well, I thought I’d do it right this time.” 

“You asshole.” But my grin has to split my face. “What did she say?”

“She was very moved. Emotional. In fact, she started to cry.”

“Fuck you.”

He grins, too. “Actually, to quote her “if he doesn’t say yes, send him my way, I’ll set him right.”

“Will she now?” I really love my mother. But sometimes I wish she’d just keep her mouth shut. “How is David? It is still David, right?” Tyler was bad enough. But David is even younger. And better looking.

“She told me you’d ask. And she even mentioned the snide tone you’d use while saying his name.” Brain is clearly enjoying himself. 

“What would you think if your mother dated a 24 year old guy?” 

“I’d cheer her on.” Brian is still grinning but his eyes are serious. “Not that Joanie would ever engage in anything remotely sexual. No wonder my father ended up drinking himself into a stupor most evenings. Satisfaction thy name is not Joan.”

“How is she?” Not that I really care, but I know that Brian, for all his pretending not to, does. 

“Just like your relationship with Craig, mine with Joan was never renewed after I threw her out of my office. Of course, that was *after* she told me that me getting testicular cancer was part of God’s plan to bring me back on the straight path, pun intended.”

“Wow. She really is a bitch.”

He laughs, only half amused. “So true. I met Claire a year back. She needed money to bail out John, after he beat up a gay couple, one ending up in a coma.”

“Fuck.” It shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. “Your mother must have been so proud.”

“Mom still insists she loves her kids. No wonder my idea of love was so warped.”

No wonder at all. “So. How are we going to do this?”

He looks at me, clearly puzzled. “What’s to know? We’ll find an apartment. Find the perfect bed. Then fuck each other senseless.”

I laugh out loud, that’s just such a Brian Kinney thing to say, and I can’t stop even when people around us start staring. “I can live with that concept,” I say finally, still chuckling slightly. 

“As a matter of fact, I know this guy who has an apartment overlooking Central Park.”

His hand comes to lie on my back, the warmth instantly burning my skin. “Do you now?”

“Yes, can you believe it? And know what – he wants to sell it because he and his wife are moving to Paris for a few years.”

“I see.” My agent is waving frantically for me to come over, no doubt gushing to some potential buyer, but I block her out. It’s not as if I haven’t earned enough money to last me a lifetime. What do I care if some rich chick buys an original Taylor or not, if there’s the Kinney original asking me to finally fulfil my dream. “Maybe we should go and see the apartment.”

“Exactly. What do you think of tonight?”

“Excellent,” I reply, playing along, enjoying the closeness we share despite the fact that it’s been years that we’ve talked in person. It’s the strangest thing. Or maybe not.

Maybe it was fate all along.

*****

And that’s how it happened. It’s been five years, and I wouldn’t have missed them for the world. Oh, it’s been anything but smooth sailing, but none of us expected it to be. We’ve had spectacular fights and even more spectacular reunions. Our family was excited, Gus slightly disgusted, but I guess for a 16 year old teenager he took it pretty well. My mom and Deb were fussing over the wedding, organizing a whole big thing, so that in the end, Brian and I escaped to Toronto and got married there. 

After grumbling for a while, our assorted families forgave us and we all had a huge celebration on Liberty Avenue. Very fitting if you ask me. After all, it’s where we first met. 

With all my heart I know this is where we were headed from the moment we met under the street lamp so long ago. Where’re you headed, he asked me. No place special, I said. And it was right. The place doesn’t matter, never has. 

Pittsburgh, New York, Europe. Wherever I’ll be, I’ve finally found home. Where I belong. Right here, in Brian Kinney’s arms.


End file.
